


What Master Ford Saw

by Songstress21 (Cantatrice18)



Category: Merry Wives of Windsor - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Scenes, Multi, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3960241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Songstress21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Master Ford, burning with jealousy at the thought of his wife's illicit affair with Falstaff, is determined to catch the pair in the act. Four different takes on what he could have found, upon invading his wife's bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Merry Wives

Master Ford led the group of hunters through his house, making a beeline for his bedroom and throwing open the door. “Falstaff!” he cried. “Come forth, sirrah!”

He heard a scrabbling sound behind the carved wooden screen in the corner and gestured for Hugh Evans to help him. Together they pulled the screen to one side, revealing a strange and baffling sight.

Mistress Ford sat on a stool in the corner, but she was not alone, nor was it the roguish knight who kept her company. Instead, Mistress Page knelt at her feet, face bright red with embarrassment, her hair coming down from its bun. Ford noticed that his wife’s bodice was hastily laced, the curve of her breasts showing over the finely woven fabric. “What ho, Alice?” Ford exclaimed, looking between the two women. “What business are you about?”

Alice Ford stood, straightening her skirts as she did so. “None of your concern, my husband,” she replied coldly. “Mistress Page was simply taking my measurements for a new gown.”

“And could not a tailor do that?” Ford asked, frowning.

“Tailors are usually men, sir,” said Meg Page, rising to stand at Alice’s shoulder. Her voice was slightly higher than usual, and breathier. 

“Indeed,” said Alice, “and for such things, I prefer a woman’s touch.”

The pair shared a look that Ford didn’t understand, something that annoyed him greatly. “Where is the knave, Sir John?” he demanded.

“Sir John?” Alice looked at him in surprise. “How should I know where he is?”

Unable to come up with a suitable reply, Ford relapsed into silence.

“It seems you suspect without ze cause for it,” Caius offered.

“Your wife is clearly honest,” added Hugh Evans.

Ford glared at the men, but said nothing. Sir John was not there, but he suspected that Alice had not told him the whole truth. Page stepped forward and offered Mistress Page his hand. “Come, my wife, let us be off, and set this business behind us.”

Meg Page hesitated for the briefest moment before taking her husband’s hand, her gaze darting towards Alice, and Ford had a sudden thought. He looked between the two women incredulously, unable to believe that this strange suspicion of his might be the truth. And yet the state of their clothes, Meg Page’s hair and the way she’d blushed, as though caught in some illicit act…Ford shook his head, trying to clear it of such thoughts. “Come, Alice,” he said woodenly. “Forgive my jealousy, as I forgive your indiscretion.”

Alice turned away from him, crossing her arms. “I have done nothing to warrant your jealousy, nor your forgiveness,” she said bluntly. Ford saw that Meg Page had her eyes trained carefully on the floor, looking neither at Alice nor at her husband. “Heaven make you better than your thoughts,” Alice added, before stalking from the room. Ford remained in the bedroom long after the others had left, thinking over what had occurred and wondering if his wife had committed a far greater sin than adultery with a lecherous knight.


	2. The Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Rape Aftermath

“Master Ford, Master Ford, come quickly!”

Ford raced to the stairs, his heart sinking even as rage boiled within him. His last ray of hope for his wife’s innocence had just been extinguished, and he knew he’d have trouble controlling his temper when he saw the guilty pair together. Behind him, the villagers followed, their faces full of anticipation. Ford reached the second floor and looked down the hall to where Hugh Evans stood, leaning against the door of the Fords’ bedroom. He looked shaken. “Master Ford, I—“

“Out of my way,” Ford growled, shoving Evans aside and throwing the door open. He took two steps into the room and froze.

On the bed, her clothes in disarray and her hair tangled, lay Alice Ford. Her arms hung limply at her sides, her eyes were closed, and her skin was translucently pale. Ford crossed to the bed and gazed down at his wife, the blood draining from his face. Close up, he could see the bluish tinge of his wife’s lips. “Alice?” he whispered, resting one hand against her neck. Beneath his fingers, he could feel the weak pulse of her heartbeat. “Alice!” he cried, shaking her by the shoulders. “Wake up, Alice!”

“She does not breathe,” exclaimed Doctor Caius, who had followed Ford into the room along with several other townsfolk. “Cut her corset.”

Without a moment’s consideration for his wife’s modesty, Ford sat on the edge of the bed, drew his belt knife, and sliced through the lacings of Alice’s bodice, leaving her in only her blouse. He noticed dark marks beneath the fabric and cut it away as well to reveal large, ugly bruises along her ribs. She groaned, her eyelids fluttering open, and saw Ford standing over her. “Husband,” she whispered, then coughed, her hand going to her bruised chest as she cried out in agony.

“What has happened?” Ford asked, fearing he knew the answer.

Alice looked away. “The Knight,” she whispered, a blush mantling her cheeks.

“Sir John?” Ford asked, his voice taking on a bitter edge. “Your paramour, you mean?”

“No!” Alice’s eyes widened in shock. “No, never!”

“You invited him here this morning, for a tryst!” Ford accused. “Do you deny it?”

“I deny it,” Alice said hoarsely. “I would never shame you in such a way.”

“Liar,” he spat, feeling the gleeful eyes of all the townsfolk upon him. “You have dishonored me with your wantonness, brazenly taking a lover—“

“He was not my lover,” Alice interrupted, wincing in pain. “I did not invite him to my bed, to our bed. I fought against him with all my might. Look upon me, my husband. See what he has done.”

She gestured to the marks on her body, and Ford noticed something for the first time. Grabbing her hand, he held it up to examine it. Her fingernails were ragged and torn, blood staining the tips of her fingers where she’d scratched her assailant. He met his wife’s eyes and felt a pang of guilt for treating her so harshly. “I believe you,” he murmured, stroking her hair. He heard the crowd mutter in shock and disbelief, and turned to look at them. “See, gentlemen, what the monster has done to an honest woman. Find him, my friends, if you have to search all of England.”

The villagers left, some crying out “Death to the monster!” while others snuck looks back at the unhappy pair on the bed. When they were alone at last, Ford leaned over and placed a chaste and gentle kiss upon his wife’s forehead. “Pardon me, wife…”


	3. Deceiver

The sounds of the retreating crowd filled his ears, their jeers and taunts as they bore Falstaff away echoing in his mind as a single word repeated over and over again: Cuckold. He moved towards his wife, and Alice looked up at him, her gaze full of fear. “You don’t understand, it wasn’t an affair. I wouldn’t do that to you, I swear it, I would never dishonor our marriage vows. You must believe me – you do believe me, don’t you?”

Ford said nothing. He’d managed to back his wife into a corner, and now drew so close he could hear her frightened, quick breaths and see her trembling. Reaching out, he pushed her back against the wall and wrapped his hands around he throat. She said nothing, only struggled weakly as he choked the life from her body. Only when he was sure she was dead did he release her, letting her fall to the floor. He’d have the gravediggers gather her corpse later. For now, he needed a drink.


	4. Dear John

“Gentlemen, ascend my chambers! Search, seek, find out: I warrant we’ll unkennel the Fox.”

The townsfolk split up, going in every direction. Some checked the pantry and kitchen (helping themselves to a few morsels along the way), while others opened cupboard doors and chests of drawers. Ford watched them all, fuming inwardly as he waited for one of them to find the culprit and bring the knave to justice. The minutes ticked by until suddenly there was a cry from upstairs. Ford raced towards the bedroom and threw the door open, expecting to find his wife and the shameless Sir John. Instead, Hugh Evans stood by the bedside, a folded note in his hand. “Tis addressed to you,” he said, offering it to Ford. “I did not mean to read it, I swear.”

“Give it here,” said Ford, plucking it from Evans’s grasp and shaking it open. He skimmed the first few lines and his eyes widened in shock.

“My dear husband,” the letter began. “It is past time for me to inform you of my changed affections. We have been married many years and, though you will always be my love, I am ready to move on. The jealousies, the rants, the many accusations and falsehoods you’ve told about my honor and fidelity, have left me little choice but to change my position, or risk someday being the target of more than just your harsh words. Therefore, I have left this house, taking half the savings from your various hiding places (locations I found on my own, with no help from the servants, you may be sure of that). I will not say wither I have gone, and it will be of no use to try and follow after me. I hope that you can find peace, my husband.”

The letter was signed with his wife’s unmistakably graceful signature, the sweeping black lines of her name branding themselves in his mind even as he stared at the page. He crumpled the paper in his hand, yelling for Master Page and the others to come quickly, to help him track her down before she could get too far, but he knew it was too late. She’d been planning this, perhaps since the first day he’d mistakenly cast aspersions on her chastity. By now, she could be anywhere. He collapsed on the bed and put his head in his hands. Alice, the woman he’d married, the woman he loved, was gone.


End file.
